


A Lack of Color

by Orange



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-02
Updated: 2012-03-02
Packaged: 2017-11-01 00:02:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orange/pseuds/Orange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack was always so funny to watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lack of Color

Jack was always so funny to watch. 

Every time she came down here to talk to him, he had taken off his wonderfully colorful robes. It was a shame, because some of them she had made herself. As the Queen, she had a lot of free time. 

It never much made her angry, however. She just had fun taunting him with all of the outfits. It felt as though she had always been doing this to him, and that she had always been enjoying it. She knew that wasn't true, of course. Unlike Jack, she remembered almost everything that happened. 

"Oh come now Jack, it's just a little outfit! Put it on for me, would you? Please?"

Jack simply blew raspberries in her general direction, mumbling cute little obscenities, gnashing his teeth. But for nearly an hour, he put up with her, and she was overjoyed with him-- and his discomfort. 

"Why," he asked her finally. "Why do you make me wear this fu-- ridiculous outfits, your Highness?" 

His dedication to being as venomously polite as possible was something she had always admired. Even when they were different people. Even when she poked his eye out, he didn't bat a lash.

"Oh my," she thought. "That was in bad taste."

She considered his question in earnest, however. Why did she do it? She could no longer taste the colors as she once could, nor smell them either. It was part of the deal she had made, so long ago. 

To regain her sight. 

She had wanted to see him, back then. To know well and truly what he looked like. It made no difference to her; she had felt something for him that was strong, deep, and oddly right. She didn't need to see him to prove that to herself, but she wanted to be able to see his expressions: his grimaces, his scowls, his flat looks. And on the rare occasion, his smile.

She looked down at him from her place on his desk, tapping her foot upon it lightly as she stood. As she walked over to him, his grim expression deepened, and by the time she had reached him, hand clutching her sword to threaten him as empty-handed as she always did, he had torn off the outfit he had been wearing with his bare claws.

Her eyes caught the shreds of cloth on the floor. All different shades and tints, yes. But to her eyes, they was a lack of color to all of it. Everything was varying shades of grey.

The Queen looked back up to Jack, making eye contact with him, pleading with emotionless eyes for him to remember something. She saw nothing akin to recognition, and sighed. She willed the joy at his rage to return, and it did, if much diminished.

"Because, Jack. Everybody has to wear them. I am your Queen, and at the end of the day, even you must obey my whims. That's simply how the law works."

He hadn't been paying any attention. He had been opening a small green box, and her eyes widened momentarily.

And then, for the second time in her incredibly strange life, the world turned to black.


End file.
